


talk to me until the sun rises

by astrangepurplefairy



Series: the adventures of a wild sprace’s apartment [6]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M, Sprace Apartment AU, all nighters, meme discussions, spot and race are the only ones present but everyone’s mentioned, spot finally realizing some shit, sprace, they’re drunk for most of this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 03:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20037052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangepurplefairy/pseuds/astrangepurplefairy
Summary: spot and race pull an all-nighter





	talk to me until the sun rises

**Author's Note:**

> guys don’t be mad but i haven’t slept in 54 hours  
anyway  
enjoy!!

“Hey.” Race says, and looks to Spot. It’s already dark outside, past eleven, but neither of them are tired. Something about tonight makes it feel like they shouldn’t be sleeping.

“What?” Spot said, sitting cross-legged on the couch and pausing the movie they’re watching.

“We should pull an all-nighter.”

Spot doesn’t think, even though he should. The idea of an all-nighter with Race is too enticing. “Okay.” He shrugged. 

Race grinned, and Spot felt his heart kick slightly. “Cool.”

—

“Why are there so many fruits?” Spot asked an hour later, when the TV was dark and they’d migrated from sitting on the couch to being awkwardly sprawled across it like rag dolls. “I mean, honestly, there’s like a thousand. All you really need are apples, bananas, strawberries, grapes, and maybe the odd peach. All of the others are useless.”

Race looks at him and sits up. “What about pears?”

Spot sighs. “Okay, pears too.” He admits. “But, like, apricots? Who needs apricots?”

“I don’t know, someone invented apricots for some reason, right?” Race said plainly.

Spot looked at him, slowly, and said with both concern and fear in his voice, “ _No.”_

Race just started laughing, falling back onto the sofa, and kicked Spot in the shin.

— 

It was one o’clock when Race stood up suddenly and yelled, “Where’s the liquor?”

Spot laughed. “It’s in the cabinet above the microwave.”

Race disappears into the kitchen and reappears a moment later, carrying a bottle of Smirnoff vodka in one hand and a two liter of Mountain Dew in the other.

Spot sat up. “We really doing this?” He asked, laughing a little.

Race tossed him the Smirnoff and plopped down on the couch, grinning. “Hell yes.”

Spot flicked the cap off the bottle, whooping, and pressed it to his lips.

—

They were far down the road to shitfaced by one thirty, giggling like six-year-olds. Race was lying on the floor, one hand in his blonde curls, and Spot was sitting on the couch looking down at him, sipping vodka periodically.

“Would you rather kiss Jack or kiss Davey?” Spot asked, gesturing with the bottle.

Race made a face. “Ugh, kissing either would be weird. I think Davey, though, because kissing Jack would be like kissing my brother.” Spot nodded. “Would you rather have to break up Blink and Mush or Kath and Sarah?”

“Oh my god, either would be awful!” He squeaked, shaking his head. “They’re both so cute! I guess if it had to be one...” he sighed. “It would be Blink and Mush, but just because I’ve seen Sarah and Kath pine over each other since the fourth grade, I feel very involved in their relationship.”

Race nodded. “I have to agree. They’re all perfect for each other, and I hope none of them ever break up, but I’ve just known Kath and Saz longer.”

“Okay, okay, would you rather listen to Davey talk about literature for three hours, or listen to Albert talk about aliens for five?” Spot offered, taking a sip of alcohol and relishing the way it burned down his throat.

Race groaned. “You say that like I haven’t done both, many times.” He huffed, and Spot giggled, tossing his head back. “Probably listen to Davey, because I could get him to talk about comic books or something and I’d actually be able to keep up. Albert doesn’t even have conversations, he just keeps talking.” Spot nodded and laughed, looking down at Race’s clear blue eyes, trained on the ceiling, “Okay, anyway, would you rather be in a throuple with Albert and Elmer, or Finch and Crutchie?”

Spot thought for a long moment, pursing his lips to one side, and then shrugged. “Probably Finch and Crutch, in all honesty.” Race’s brows shot up in surprise. “I just feel like Albert and Elmer fit together so perfectly, like literally, they have this ridiculous connection. If I were their boyfriend, I think I would feel left out.” He laughed. “Plus, I’d hardcore cuddle Crutchie if I was into him.”

Race shrugged and nodded. “Okay, that’s valid. I’m pretty sure anyone would cuddle Crutchie.”

“He’s just a huggable human, alright?” Spot chuckled, grinning when Race joined him.

“Okay, would you rather...”

—

They spent an entire hour dancing drunkenly to Hosier and Mura Masa, Race having resurrected the banana suit from the depths of his closet as Spot flung around wildly, vodka still in hand.

—

It’s 2am, there’s an empty bottle of vodka on the floor, and Spot is on the floor, for some reason. He’s sitting cross-legged on the carpet, watching Race sprawl carelessly in front of him.

“You ever been in love, Spottie?” Race asked, tucking one of his arms behind his head.

Spot looked him dead in the eyes, and even though he was fairly sure he never had, found himself saying, “Yes.” And then, “You?”

Race looked up at him. “I think so.” He took a breath. “What was yours like?”

Spot swallowed. “I don’t know. I guess it’s... scary, but in a nice way.”

Race nodded. “It’s kind of terrifying.”

“It’s kind of awesome, though, too. Seeing someone you’re in love with feels like a shot of adrenaline, you know?”

Race nodded. “So you’re still in love?”

Spot looked at him and acknowledged with a morbid certainty something he’d been repressing for twelve years. “Yeah, I guess I am.” He exhaled. “Are you?”

Race nodded, but said nothing else, and Spot took a long swig of Mountain Dew.

—

Race is lying backwards on the couch, feet thrown over the back of it and head hanging off the front. Spot is sitting cross-legged on the floor, his hood up over his head, hands tying and untying his sweatshirt strings.

“What’s your favorite meme?” Race asks quietly, and Spot turns, catching the time on the TV console. He only realizes it’s past four in the morning when he looks away.

Spot actually thinks, too tired to fake-judge his roommate. After a long moment, he says, “The fuck ya chicken strips one.”

Race nods. “That’s a good one.”

“What’s yours?”

“I really love Dark Kermit.” Race says honestly, and then giggles. “I think it’s hilarious.”

Spot nods. “Why are we still awake?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Race admits, tossing a throw pillow at Spot’s face. He catches it and throws it back.

“You know what’s a good meme? The two Spider-Mans pointing at each other.”

“You’re right.” Race says simply, and then laughs.

Spot joins him, falling back onto the carpet, and stares at the ceiling.

—

The sun is about to rise over the horizon when Race looks over at Spot blearily, his hood up over his blonde curls, blue eyes sleepy.

“What’s the maddest you’ve ever been at me?” He asks, and Spot blinks twice.

“I don’t know.” He says, and then chuckles, thinking. “High school, probably. Do you remember in junior year, when you were going through all that stuff, and kept getting in fights with randos?” Race nodded. “I kept trying to help you, and you’d just brush me aside, over and over. I understood why, but I sort of wanted to throttle you so you’d just  _stop fighting_. But that was more worry than anger.” He chuckled dryly. “I thought you were going to get yourself killed, knocking on my door at midnight four times a week, each time with a new injury.”

“I didn’t know that.” Race murmurs. “I’m... sorry.” He chokes out finally.

“This can’t be real. I’m in a fever dream. Or a coma. Race, what year is it?” Spot asks, mock-frantic, and ducks when Race throws a pillow at him. Still, Race is smiling, just slightly. “What’s the maddest you’ve ever been at me?” He asks, so Race will stop thinking about junior year.

Race huffs a laugh. “Ninth grade, when you started dating Adam Bishop for those full three months.” He chuckled, and Spot grinned. “Adam didn’t like me, for whatever reason, and I’m pretty sure I saw you eight times throughout those entire twelve weeks. I wanted to murder you.”

“Shit, why didn’t you tell me?” Spot asked, pulling his hood over his eyes. “Adam Bishop wasn’t important at all compared to you.”

Race jutted his lower lip out, putting a hand to his heart, and hummed. “That’s so cute.”

Spot kicked him in the shin as they both burst into tired, sleep-deprived laughter, shutting their eyes and leaning back into the couch. One of Race’s hands threaded through his, holding tight, and Spot blushed behind his hood, smiling.

He was asleep in three minutes, his fingers still entwined with Race’s.

**Author's Note:**

> spot’s in looooveeee  
leave kudos and comments if you enjoy or if you wanted to give me a prompt or just tell me to go tf to sleep because it’s been 54 HOURS AND IM DYING  
love y’all!!  
<333


End file.
